Finding More Truth

 I keep returning to thoughts about my little girl.

This morning, I can see something more clearly than I ever have before.

She didn’t just navigate trauma as a child.

She carried it into my adult life.

And the way she learned to survive was by being a good little girl.

Be good.

Don’t make mistakes.

Don’t do anything wrong.

Because somewhere inside her was the belief that if she wasn’t perfect, punishment would follow.

And when I couldn’t be perfect—which, of course, no human being can be—I somehow brought punishment into my life without even realizing it.

Prior to recovery, much of the punishment was emotional.

I spent many years in recovery doing deep healing work around shame, guilt, worthlessness, and the beliefs I had carried since childhood. I learned to love my little girl. To support her. To tell her she was worthy and loved.

But then the pain became physical.

First fibromyalgia.

Then nerve pain in both of my knees.

And then the bladder issues.

And somehow, to that little girl, the pain felt like punishment.

So she became even more hypervigilant.

What am I doing wrong?

What rule did I break?

She created rules because rules had once helped her feel safer.

But no one can be perfect.

I eventually overcame my fear of fibromyalgia, and over time those symptoms became quiet.

The knee pain took several years before I could stop being afraid of it. The pain is still here today, but for the most part, I no longer live in terror of it.

The bladder pain is different.

It hasn’t resolved, and I can see how much terror still lives inside that little girl.

She is still afraid of doing something wrong.

Still searching for the rule she must follow to finally be safe.

And I can see how my brain and nervous system can begin to treat those rules as though they are truth.

The pain is real.

But I question the stories that grow around the pain.

The stories belong to a frightened little girl and the trauma she carried.

Today, I don’t have the answers.

I don’t know how to help her navigate the fear and the pain.

But I know one thing I can do.

I can surrender.

I can stop searching for the rule I might be breaking.

I can gently remind her:

You don’t have to be perfect anymore.

You don’t have to earn your safety.

You don’t have to be afraid of punishment.

We can take this one moment at a time.

And for today, perhaps surrender is enough.